A Poem by Amy D. Brooks

Weeks slurred to all three months,
As we fed on rounded-edged blunts.
Air-fives and dune rides with no goodbyes,
It was then that I realized I could die.

Freeways stuck on automatic replay,
Tanked, letting rum drown the days.
Traffic inched you from boy to man,
Driving south with your laptop tan.
The Rosarito sunrise was dried and burning,
As you turned me to a Catholic virgin.

Back home at one-ten with a trunk full of blow,
Over through Yuma and to a slow.
We stumbled away, dazed from the ride,
After not long I forgot you and you I.

We will never meet again, of that I am sure,
I don't even remember your screenname anymore.
But I'll always recall the feeling of thinking we had beat 'em,
Of that first salted, bloodied taste of freedom.

© 2013 Amy D. Brooks

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Thelma and Louise... Some of the best things are fleeting, enjoyed this!

Posted 5 Years Ago

first! of all, the poem is in free verse. which I hate. but I liked this one. Although rhyme is almost nonexistent, there's somewhat of a structured rhythm going on here. I get a feeling of someone playing online games day in and day out. the persona fell in love with someone in the game but things happened to the persona and things just fell apart. That's just what I got in my cup of tea. It was kind of awkward to read at first, but you'll get the hang of it once you have your ball rollin.

Posted 6 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on February 15, 2013
Last Updated on February 15, 2013
Tags: border, Mexico, cocaine, road trip, love, loss, youth, crime


Amy D. Brooks
Amy D. Brooks

Portland, OR

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